


how to stop (and start again)

by mundanememory



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a tiny bit of jt/elias, everything that everyone does in this is a terrible coping mechanism, i have no idea how to tag this honestly, like a general mess of a pentagonal relationship, unrequited jake/elias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mundanememory/pseuds/mundanememory
Summary: JT goes to Vancouver and he’s never felt more lost in a new city.He's in a new country on the opposite side of the continent. Ryan dumped him.The way to get him back is probably not by hooking up with the similarly-brokenhearted Elias or to accidentally start mentoring the love struck Jake.
Relationships: Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson, Ryan McDonagh/J. T. Miller
Comments: 30
Kudos: 115





	how to stop (and start again)

**Author's Note:**

> so . uh . this is a certified MESS. i had lots of different ideas floating around in my head and they all sort of amalgamated into one idea here and this happened? i have no idea who the target audience for this fic is tbh!
> 
> i had thought just a touch about jt/ryan while writing _climbing the same mountain on different sides_ and there are whispers of the idea that would eventually become this fic in it but its kinda blink and you miss it? so i wanted to explore it more! and of course all my jt/ryan love comes from steph's [wonderful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723731) [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443787) about them which are absolutely phenomenal and will stab you thru the chest and you should read them before/after this!!
> 
> heres a tweet about jake you should read also: [link](https://twitter.com/patersonjeff/status/1209190423253549056)
> 
> cw/squick: soft references to events dealing with brock's family from the 2019 summer without mentioning anything directly, also mentions of tobacco/weed use (yes i know nhlers probably dont smoke cigarettes but you gotta work with me here)

JT goes to Vancouver and he’s never felt more lost in a new city. It’s nothing like Tampa or New York besides the proximity of the waterfront, and he finds himself drawn to that familiarity, spending a lot of time strolling down the coast, face turned into the ocean breeze. Otherwise the only things in the city he’s comfortable with are the directions to a few restaurants and the convenience store that are within walking distance of his apartment.

The cashier at the convenience store says, “Um, sorry, we only accept CAD,” holding the five JT handed him in a loose grip.

JT’s trying to buy a protein shake. “Fuck,” he says, taking the bill back. “Sorry.”

“New in town?” the cashier asks.

JT fishes out the few Canadian bills he does have out of his pocket and hands them over. He left his card in his apartment, stupidly. “Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Moved in from Tampa.”

The cashier raises his eyebrows and accepts the bills. “You’re a long way from home. Gets a little colder around here.”

JT shrugs when he pockets the receipt. He doesn’t really want to get into it with some random cashier, tell him that he’ll be fine in the winter, with his parka from New York City dug out of storage and a lifetime growing up in Ohio. “Shouldn’t be too bad,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Thanks. Have a nice day.”

* * *

Travis’ office is neat but not obsessively so the way Jon’s was. There are loose papers on the desk and his laptop is just barely off-center. But otherwise everything is in order, nothing out of place or dumped on the floor.

“We’re really excited to have you,” Travis says with an easy smile.

“I’m excited to be here.” It’s half true and half a lie. There are some things from Tampa JT can’t wait to forget and some that he wishes he doesn’t have to.

“We see a lot of opportunity for you here, an increased opportunity for you in comparison to Tampa. We’ll try you with both Bo and Petey.”

JT nods in response; no hockey player doesn’t want more ice time, more responsibility. They itch for every opportunity, chomping at the bit for any chance.

“We think you’ll be a great fit in the room. It’ll be nice to get a little more veteran leadership with our young players.”

JT tries not to bristle at that. He’s still young; he still has a lot to give besides pep talks in the room. When he was young they always talked about his potential, about the things he could be. He never ended up being much of anything, neither the best nor the worst things they predicted. “I’m excited for any chance I’m given,” he eventually says, honestly. 

He could be something new here. He’s a long way away from an old life, and nothing is tying him back to Tampa or New York anymore. The few strings he kept tied were cut loose not by his own choice; his edges are frayed and hanging. Travis looks him in the eye and smiles when they shake hands.

JT explores the rink, walking around the locker room and imagining tying down new strings.

* * *

The hockey rink, at least, he understands. Hockey rinks are the same no matter where you go. The ice sheet is a blank canvas; JT can leave all his emotions on it, dig his skates in hard and cut up the surface.

He meets Bo right before the start of training camp, both of them electing to take a skate on a September morning. They pass the puck and shoot the shit, getting to know one another and learning how the other plays.

“Is it too soon for me to ask about the sweep?” Bo asks eventually with a sly smile.

JT groans, overdramatic so Bo knows he’s not actually bothered, and Bo laughs. “Fuck,” JT says with the shake of his head. “Everyone wants to know about the four losses instead of the 62 wins, eh?”

“Alright, alright, fair enough.” Bo backs off, scooping up another puck and bouncing it on his blade. JT follows his lead, bouncing a puck until he gets bored and smacks it in the direction of the net.

He skates out to collect the puck. “For real,” he says, “it sucked. I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

“Well, I’m 24 and I’ve only won two playoff games in my career, so not like I’ve done much better.”

JT knows it’s been a rough few years in Vancouver but he thinks about the roster, led by Bo’s cool hand, and he can’t imagine them not making the playoffs this year. “We’ll do it this year,” he tells Bo. “I’m sure of it.”

“Make the playoffs?”

“And win you more than two games.”

Bo grins. “This team needs someone like you, Millsy.”

JT smiles back and absently taps the orca on his chest.

* * *

“Hope the new guys are ready for the bag skate.” JT looks up to see Elias Pettersson walking into the locker, looking like a model. He’s met with a few hugs, small talk exchanged like it’s the first day of a new school year. JT buzzes with nervous energy; he’s always excited for training camp but anxious for it to just start already. Especially with what everyone keeps saying about Travis’ bag skates.

Elias makes his way to JT, talking with everyone along his way until they’re face to face. Elias is just barely taller than him and his lips are upturned in an easy pink smile. “It’s good to meet you,” he says, shaking JT’s hand. His hands are narrow but his shake is firm and confident. “Call me Petey.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” JT replies. “I’m JT. Uh, JT’s fine, Millsy’s fine. Whatever.”

Elias is pretty and JT hasn’t known many pretty hockey players in his life. He’s slender as if delicate but balanced, steady on his feet and skates. He’s got a neat, cosmopolitan fashion sense, everything trim and cropped right to his body. It’s a nice body. 

He’s wearing a sweater made of impossibly soft fabric and jeans that hug every line of his legs to the rink. His sneakers have the trademark Gucci stripe down the side. JT sits beside him in a meeting, Travis talking about his expectations and giving them updates about the start of training camp. Elias keeps his eyes trained forward the entire time, not blinking away for anything.

After the meeting, they sit around and chat, guys getting to know each other and talking about the summer. JT’s still beside Elias, who turns to him and says, “I watched some of your highlights, when they traded for you.”

“We’ve all seen your highlights,” JT replies.

Elias shrugs like_ not a big deal_. He traces a line down his forearm, drawing a lazy circle on his wrist. At some point he probably got used to the attention. “They’re alright,” he says.

* * *

When JT meets Brock for the first time it isn’t even on purpose. The news of his signing comes in one night and he’s in the rink the next morning, working with the trainers and getting up to speed as training camp plugs along. JT comes across him sitting alone in a hallway on his phone and double-takes before realizing who he’s looking at.

“Oh, hey,” he says. Brock looks up from his phone; he looks unhappy, and JT feels uneasy. He steps toward him with his hand stuck out anyway, saying, “I’m JT. Sorry if I’m interrupting something.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Brock smiles and pockets his phone. “I’m Brock. Finally made it!” he chuckles uncomfortably, no doubt aware of his own summer media circus.

“Yeah, we’re all glad for it. Must’ve been a tough summer.”

The corners of Brock’s lips pull down. “Yeah.” His tone is purposeful. There’s weight behind the word. “That’s for sure.”

“Well, I’m super excited to have a chance to play with you. You’re a great player. Petey was telling me—”

“Yeah?” Brock says, perking up. His mouth turns up into a smile, but then it wavers slightly, drooping again. “He’s the best. Really fun to play with. I—”

Something buzzes, and Brock cuts himself off, focus turned entirely away from JT. He fumbles in his pocket and digs out his phone, standing and saying, “Sorry, I gotta take this—It’s my mom—I’ll see you!” before jogging away down the hallway with his phone to his face.

JT shrugs. Calls with mom are important.

* * *

Elias is curious, cool and confident but just a half-step from typical. He’s different from JT, and he likes that. JT wants to forget everything he’s used to, and Elias is like nothing JT knows or ever knew. On the first roadie the vets, the real vets on the team, insist on going out, and Elias shows up with Quinn in tow, chatting on the phone in Swedish. Jacob appears out of nowhere and herds Elias away, both of them still yammering in Swedish, leaving Quinn and JT standing by the bar.

Gingerly, JT sits himself down and he pats the stool beside him. Quinn sits down and says, “You played at the program, right?”

JT blinks but nods; it feels like a long time ago.

“That’s cool. Playing in New York sounds pretty cool too.”

Quinn looks at JT expectantly, so JT talks. He talks about New York and a little about Tampa, except for the parts at the very end, and he tells the stories he can remember from the program. Quinn laughs and tells his own stories, the stupidest teenage things he did with his friends back then.

“I only ever really played with American guys before I got here.” Quinn shrugs; he looks over his shoulder at where Elias is sitting with Jacob. “Petey let me live with him when I was up in the spring. It was really cool of him. He’s a really nice guy.” Quinn’s flat voice doesn’t match the story he’s telling. He sounds bored, almost. But he’s earnest, too, in the way rookies are earnest.

“Do you have your own place now, then?” JT asks.

Quinn nods. “I like having my own space. We live in the same building, though. And I think he wanted to be alone this year, after—” Quinn’s voice stutters a beat “—well, after his rookie year, I guess.”

“Must’ve been a crazy year, huh,” JT says, unsure whether he’s referring to Elias or Quinn.

“He’s really, like, mature.” Quinn looks at JT’s feet, his hands, his chin. His eyes are always darting around, never quite holding JT’s gaze, never quite looking away. It comes off as insecure, but Quinn’s voice is demure and steady and JT knows him as confident and unshakeable on the ice. “Kind of a weird guy but I like him.”

JT’s about to say something else but Chris, in the corner with the other d-men, shouts, “_Huggy!_ Get over here!”

Quinn clambers away with a wave and he leaves JT alone. Not for long, though. Elias comes back with a nod and no hello, sliding into Quinn’s vacated seat.

“What’d you think of that play? From the video today?”

JT makes a non-committal noise. “Let’s not talk about that. Tell me about Sweden. I’ve never been, y’know.”

“Really?” Elias raises his eyebrows. “Well, the town I grew up in…” 

Elias opens like petals of a flower. He tells JT about his childhood and opens the floor for JT to do the same. He’s interesting, an upbringing pretty much as different as it gets from JT’s own but still somehow the same as him.

JT notices things about him. Elias speaks slowly and carefully; he corrects himself when he misspeaks or mispronounces something. Elias is made of straight lines, from the seam of his mouth to his long legs. Elias has a cold unhappy-seeming gaze but an amiable sense about him; he leans in to JT when he speaks and isn’t shy to laugh.

Elias is also… not particularly subtle. He seems to watch everyone in his cold-gazed way but JT can tell that Elias isn’t looking at him the same way he looks at the other guys. There’s an interest there, a lingering quality in his eyes. Maybe it’s because he’s still young and hasn’t learned to keep his eyes to himself yet. JT likes to think he’s still young, though, and he _never _learned to keep his eyes to himself.

He’s young enough to still be stupid, stupid enough to dive headfirst into what he wanted in Tampa and then stupid enough to let it slip through his fingers. Stupid enough to look back when Elias looks at him.

“So, do you have any pets or anything?” Elias asks, methodically shredding a napkin as he speaks.

JT cocks his head. “No,” he says, surprised by the question. “I mean, I live alone, so.” Elias raises his eyebrows and JT understands.

“Me neither. Someday it’d be cool to get a dog,” Elias replies.

“Yeah.” JT doesn’t think about all the plans he used to have. Two dogs, one baby.

When Quinn comes over a few minutes later, pleasantly buzzed, and says, “We’re heading to another bar,” Elias shrugs and replies, “I might head back to the hotel. Tired.”

“Yeah, me too,” JT says, though he’s looking at Elias instead of Quinn. Elias is looking at JT’s feet, and his gaze passes over his entire body, up his legs and his torso. JT’s not wearing anything fancy, jeans not as tight as Elias’ and just a t-shirt.

JT keeps a foot of space between them until they’re in the elevator and Elias turns to get them nose to nose. They breathe for a second, waiting for the other to move in or move away. JT hadn’t realized how tall Elias is before this. Elias’ lips are pink. 

He runs a hand down JT’s torso, feeling his stomach before letting it come to rest on JT’s belt. He says, “Can I come to your room?” and there’s certainly no subtlety there. JT presses into the touch and he nods, palming his keycard in his hand. Something lights up in Elias’ eyes and he kisses JT. JT kisses him back, stepping back into the corner of the elevator, letting Elias crowd up against him and put his hands on JT’s waist. 

When Elias gets into JT’s room and on top of JT, his body is narrow and his waist is slim in JT’s hands and he’s nothing like Ryan. When Elias kneels between his legs his hair is thin and straight and blonder than blonde, nothing like Ryan. His mouth is pink and oh, _so_ soft.

When JT jerks Elias off and he comes on JT’s chest, it’s with a choked out moan that sounds nothing like Ryan.

* * *

JT watches Troy’s brow furrow as Brock hurries down the aisle of the airplane toward the bathroom at the back. His face is crumpled and he’s clearly on the way to tears, staring downward as he speeds down the aisle. Troy watches him go over his shoulder; even though the lights in the cabin are dimmed all the way and the only thing illuminating his face is the ambient light from the Switches a few rows back, JT can see the corners of his mouth dip.

Troy turns back forward and fiddles with his fingers nervously. JT cocks his head. He’s heard a little about Brock, a few things said here and there in the room, but he knows there are some things he _doesn’t _know. There are some things that guys won’t ask.

“Is he, uh,” he says to Troy, “is he okay?”

Troy blows out a breath. “He will be. He’s been through a lot. Sometimes he gets a little overwhelmed. It’s important to give him space.”

* * *

After practice, JT stays out to send Elias long passes across the ice so he can practice his one-timers. They don’t speak; JT watches the strong straight lines of his body as he whips them into the top of the net. After ten minutes Elias rests his stick over his knees and nods over to JT.

JT picks the pucks out of the net and heads off the ice to find a half-dressed Jake in the tunnel watching their extra practice. “What’s up?” he says.

Jake shrugs. He’s looking at Elias, still cleaning up on the ice, instead of JT. “I used to score goals like that. Back in junior.”

“What’s stopping you?” JT asks as he passes him by, carrying the pucks back to the locker room.

* * *

It’s not that Jake doesn’t try. JT can tell that Jake is trying very, _very_ hard. But Jake doesn’t always skate hard, or move his feet right. JT understands because he’s been in those skates before.

Jake grumbles on the bench and JT slides down toward him. “Skate through it, Tunes!” he shouts over the din of the crowd.

“Huh?” Jake asks, stuck in his own head.

JT gestures with his stick. “Don’t stop moving your feet! Use your speed!”

Jake stares at him, incredulous for a moment, but then his brow furrows and he nods. “Next shift, Millsy!”

* * *

JT needs to be near the water. His own childhood, landlocked in Ohio, seems so far away from him, and all he knows are coastlines and sea breezes. He spends a lot of off days on walks, exploring the city and the coast.

He’s lonely but he likes to watch the water come in and out, the people with it. He thinks Ryan would like it here, the pretty city and the placid mountains hanging in the background like a painting.

He’s sitting on a bench, nose pointed into the breeze, wondering what he’d say to Ryan if he were here with him, when he’s hit in the calf with a tennis ball. He looks down at it in surprise, and six feet quickly follow the ball up to him.

It’s a dog, most likely a lab, and a tall brunette man looking sheepish in a UBC sweatshirt and skinny jeans. “Sorry about that!” the guy says, smiling down at JT. “I’ve got terrible aim.”

“Oh, no problem.” JT doesn’t mind. The dog noses at JT’s leg and rests its chin on his knee, and JT can’t help but scratch its soft ears. The dog makes a happy snuff noise and leans into the scratch. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“That’s George,” the guy says. He laughs. “He likes you!”

“Well, I like him too.” JT looks into the warm chocolatey eyes of the lab.

“Do you not have a dog?”

JT looks up at the stranger, surprised but not upset the conversation is lingering. The guy is handsome, clean-cut and stylish. “No,” he replies with a shrug. “I travel a lot for work, and I live alone, so…”

“Ah, too bad.”

“I’m new in the city, too.” JT isn’t sure why he added that, but the sentence hangs in the air between them.

“Yeah? That’s cool.” George, apparently satisfied with the pets JT has given him, pads away back to the other guy. “Hey, if you ever want someone to, like, show you around… or take you out to dinner, I can give you my number?”

JT should say no, but he doesn’t. He nods and pulls out his phone, handing it to the guy. He hands the phone back and walks away with a wave. JT pockets it without bothering to look.

* * *

JT thinks about texting the guy. A couple times, even. Enough times that he’s scrolled through his contacts and found his entry: _Josh (from the park)_. It’s kind of endearing that he included the parenthetical.

He opens the texting chain and drafts a few things. _hey_ or _whats up_, maybe. He doesn’t really want to text him, though. More than anything he’s bored on the road with nothing to do.

He hits back, scrolls through his text threads, and clicks on Elias’ number.

Elias comes over and JT gets on his knees. He can pass it off as being bored on the road, looking for something to do. Elias threads his fingers in JT’s hair and pulls, and it’s primal in a way Ryan never was.

JT submits to the primal.

* * *

JT’s on his way off the ice after practice when Jake raises a glove at him and says, “Millsy? Can you send me some passes?”

JT, exhausted and something in his back tweaked and hurting, nods anyway. “’Course,” he says. He accumulates a small pile of pucks and scoots them over to one dot while Jake sits himself at the opposite one, readying himself for JT’s passes.

They practice in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the crack of Jake’s stick as he slaps one-timer after one-timer off JT’s passes. Jake’s one-timer is much better than JT had been led to believe; he can get a lot of power and speed off it, and it’s nothing like JT’s seen in games.

On their way off, JT says, “You should use that shot you’ve got, eh? Don’t be afraid to put pucks on net.”

Jake nods. “Okay. Yeah, I used to score a buncha goals like that… I dunno. Can’t do it like Petey.”

“Do your own thing. Don’t think about what Petey’s doing.”

Jake chuckles a little at that. “That’s not easy.”

And that JT can understand. Elias is magnetic, hypnotizing. He’s impossible not to watch. There’s something about the way he moves, the control and power he has over his body. Every move is calculated.

When they’re getting changed, Jake looks down at his phone then up and says, “Petey just texted me and said some guys are grabbing brunch at that place they like. Wanna head over?”

JT nods, happy to participate.

“Can you drive me?” Jake asks. “I carpooled with Gauds this morning; we live in the same building.”

JT obliges and they drive with casual conversation, JT making sure to steer the conversation away from hockey as soon as they leave the rink, asking Jake instead about his family and hometown. He’s amiable and the conversation flows easily until they pull into the lot of the brunch place.

Jake squirms in his seat as JT turns off the car and unbuckles. JT raises his eyebrows at him. Jake looks nervous, suddenly, and he pets down his hair as he unbuckles too.

“Does my hair look alright?”

JT pulls a face. “Yeah?” He opens his car door. “C’mon, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

* * *

JT drives Jake home after brunch and Jake’s all shaky in the car again, wiggling around like he’s either got something to say or he really has to pee.

“Spit it out, then,” JT says eventually as they sit at a stoplight. He turns to Jake with his eyebrows raised. Jake frowns and wavers slightly back and forth, twisting at his fingers.

“I like Petey,” he blurts.

Well, fuck. JT doesn’t want that to be what he knows it is. He feigns ignorance, saying lightly, “Yeah? We all like Petey, stupid.”

“No,” Jake replies with a dragged-out vowel. “I, like, _like_ like Petey.”

“Jeez, what are we, in 8th grade?” JT scoffs, trying to cover up his panic with dismissiveness. Maybe it’ll go away. Maybe it’s not a big deal. JT isn’t exactly ready to deal with his newfound puppy-like mentee having a crush on the teammate that JT is sleeping with.

“Shut the fuck up, Millsy, you know what I mean—whoa, stop sign!” JT slams hard on the brakes to keep them from flying through the intersection. He’s a little distracted. “I’m into him, okay? I have been since last year, but there was everything with—well, I didn’t want to mess anything up. And now I don’t think I _can_ say anything.”

JT nearly drives on a curb. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t. I dunno, seems kinda weird, dating within the team, no? A little inappropriate?”

“Well,” Jake says, opening his mouth as if to say something, but he closes it. “You’re right, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Cool. Good talk.” JT is sweating.

* * *

He still sleeps with Elias anyway. Not like it’s going to change how Elias feels about Jake. JT’s just a body to Elias, and it feels too good for JT to feel _that_ bad. If they stop sleeping together, JT really will have to face the empty space beside him, the Ryan-shaped hole in his life.

Elias takes him to bed on the road. It’s starting to feel like a routine: he knocks on JT’s door and they trade blowjobs. After, lying next to Elias and breathing hard, JT has a pang of craving for a cigarette. He crinkles his nose; he hasn’t smoked a cigarette since he was young and stupid in New York, spending nights exhaling smoke and steam into the freezing air.

“Would you date a teammate?" he asks, thinking about what Jake told him, thinking about Ryan. He’s not expecting Elias to go stony still.

“Did Brock say something to you?” Elias asks, voice barely a whisper. It’s JT’s turn to go shock-frozen. 

“Boes?” he asks. He looks over at Elias, who has his lips pinched in. “Oh,” he says, though he’s not totally sure he understands.

“We… we were…” Elias says.

“You don’t need to say it. Sorry. That’s not what I meant.” Inwardly, JT panics. _Elias and Brock?_ They _were?_ JT isn’t shocked so much at the suggestion that the two of them dated as he is at the past tense. He’s more surprised that the two of them, who still seem so close, still seem like they’re always one second from falling into each other’s arms, would break up.

JT rolls over onto his side as if to stand. “Millsy, I also don’t wanna… date you. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant either.” JT looks over his shoulder. The angle’s awkward and he can’t quite see Elias all the way, so he finishes his roll off the bed and stands, stretching his arms up to the hotel ceiling. “We’re—this is just friends, right?”

Elias nods thankfully at that.

His come is on JT’s stomach, drying in the hair there, and it’s going to be a bitch to get out. “I’m not really looking for _anything _romantic right now.” He’s perfectly happy the way things are now, fucking in hotels, Elias with his slender body on him pulling his hair and sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec.

Elias doesn’t say anything in reply, his mouth twisting as he meets JT’s gaze. He’s lying down, also naked, and he presses a spot on his hip, right at the shelf of it where JT sucked a hickey earlier in the night, or a few nights ago perhaps. “It’s better to keep things the way they are,” he says.

JT turns the shower all the way hot even though he knows cold water is better for come. Elias joins him after a minute; JT watches the silhouette of his slender figure through the steamed up glass of the shower until the door opens and he steps inside. The come washes off Elias’ hairless chest without any struggle.

* * *

JT likes Jake a lot. He knows what it’s like to be the coach’s whipping boy, to feel like you aren’t living up to the impossible promises of your own potential. He knows what it’s like to have eyes only for another.

“Can I ask you about that, uh, that thing we talked about?” Jake asks one morning in the rink. JT’s in the lounge eating breakfast and Jake is following him like a puppy.

“Uh… the Petey thing?” JT asks. He internally cringes.

Jake nods. “Do you know how… to stop?” He rubs his knuckles.

“How to _stop_?”

“I don’t want it.” Jake taps his chest. “The way I feel about him. What would you do if you liked a teammate you shouldn’t?”

JT never learned how to stop. He was never good at keeping his eyes to himself. “I dunno, Tuna,” he sighs. “I wish I knew.”

“It’s not fair.” Jake slumps forward. “Whenever I’m into someone, they’re always into someone else. Brock dumped him, anyway. _I_ wouldn’t dump Petey.”

“Brock dumped him?” JT asks before he can stop himself. He didn’t know _that_.

“Oops. I shouldn’t’ve said that.” Jake cringes. “Huggy told me.”

“Well, fuck if I know what went on between the two of them.” JT holds his hands out. It seems like a lot happened before he ever showed up. He still barely knows these people.

“They were, I dunno, perfect for each other, I guess. It made _too_ much sense. I don’t know what happened.” Jake stretches his arms out on the table, scrunching up his nose. JT looks at the tattoo down the length of his arm, curious about it.

JT blows out a breath. “Sometimes people break up. For good reasons or stupid ones. I don’t know what happens, when someone decides to stop loving.” Jake looks at him curiously. He’s still slumped over on the table so he’s looking up at JT through his eyelashes, blinking at him and drinking in every word he says. “I’ve never stopped.” 

JT forces his frown into an _oh, well_ look and stands, slapping Jake on the back. “Want a cup of coffee?” he asks.

* * *

They only sleep together on the road, until they don’t. Until an off day when the guys are hanging out and Elias needs a ride home and the moment he buckles his seatbelt he says simply, staring out the windshield, “How about we stop at your place,” as innocently as if it were to pick up a forgotten coat.

JT, in turn, looks at the steering wheel. He turns out of Bo’s driveway to the left, in the direction of his own apartment instead of Elias’. They’re naked three steps into the apartment and JT is on his knees in five. He’s on his back in bed, spit slick and rutting against Elias, minutes later.

Elias stares at him with his focused eyes, looking down at JT’s naked body spread out in front of him. He reaches down and touches JT, the hair on his chest and stomach. He brushes his hand lightly down the length of his dick teasingly before exploratorily dipping his hands lower, palming and rolling his balls before pressing his fingers behind, staring in JT’s eyes as he finds and teases his hole with the pad of his forefinger.

JT lets out a, frankly embarrassing, whine. “Can I fuck you?” Elias asks.

JT nods fast. “Yeah, yeah, please.”

Elias fucks like a man on a mission, driving deep into JT with every thrust. He comes with the same choked moan he always does and JT is weirdly grateful for it. As he tumbles over the edge of his own orgasm, he thinks about the perfect round pink _o_ of Elias’ mouth instead of the way Ryan used to fuck him.

“Do you smoke?” Elias asks him afterward, spread out on JT’s big bed like a cat.

JT pulls a face. “Cigarettes are terrible for you,” he says, remembering the dark coughs of his own youth, the sweet hit of nicotine and the outreached offering hand of Ryan in the New York City night that made it all worthwhile.

It’s Elias’ turn to grimace. “Ew. No, not cigarettes. Like, do you smoke weed? Q and I vape together sometimes. Only on off days.”

“Oh.” JT’s embarrassed. Maybe he is getting old, not knowing anything about that kind of thing. “No, sorry.”

“That’s alright. We probably shouldn’t. But it’s not that bad for you.” Elias sits up and smooths his hair back; it’s all spiked up and pushed in different directions. “I’m gonna shower. Join me?”

“Alright.”

JT and Elias shower together in JT’s bathroom, the master suite with two sinks. The shower is massive and they take turns washing each other’s backs. Elias is slender and his body is tautly formed, straight lines and tight muscle with no fat to speak of. He’s shaped nothing like Ryan. JT wishes it was Ryan in the shower with him more than anything he’s ever wanted, outside of the Stanley Cup. But a warm body is a warm body, and Elias’ body is beautiful.

When they’re clean but their hair is still wet, JT drives Elias home. Elias says, “Good night,” and he says, “thanks, Millsy.”

JT nods. He goes home and he brushes his teeth in the master suite, the other sink abandoned, and he sleeps alone.

* * *

Most everyone is gone after the game and Jake slides into the stall beside JT, on his left. Jake doesn’t say anything at first and JT doesn’t either. Jake’s really close next to him, looking down at JT’s lap. They both breathe and wait. JT thinks that Jake might have something to say, or something to ask.

Eventually, Jake leans over and looks up so he’s looking JT right in the eye. He seems confident, like he’s made a decision and he’s happy with it. “Good game tonight, Millsy.” Jake nods. “You know how to carry the boys sometimes.”

“Thanks buddy.” JT reaches his arms out, stretching out the tightness in his shoulders. Before he drops them back down to his sides, Jake reaches out and catches JT’s wrist. He pulls JT’s arm toward his body and runs his fingers up along JT’s forearms and the tattoo there. JT’s arm is against Jake’s torso and his hand is resting in his lap, on one of Jake’s thighs. _Oh_, JT thinks. This is different. New.

“I like your tattoos,” Jake says. He turns out his arm to show JT his own tattoos. The way they’re sitting, their tattooed arms press up against one another, JT’s two tattoos juxtaposed against Jake’s sleeve. Jake lazily rubs his thumb on the deer tattoo on JT’s forearm, considering it in silence.

“Yours are nice, too.” JT nods.

Jake’s fingers are still on his forearm. “Hey, wanna come over to my place? Post-game nightcap?”

JT says, “Sure,” even though he knows what Jake really wants. _Because_ he knows what Jake really wants.

Jake jerks himself off desperately in his own sweatpants when he sucks JT off, moaning around JT’s dick. When JT comes, Jake laps hungrily at it even as it spills over his bottom lip onto his chin. He stares up at JT through pleading eyes as he tugs at himself under his sweatpants until he squeezes them shut and his shoulders shake, a wet spot spreading on the front of his sweats.

“Wanna, uh… shower?” JT asks. He wonders if he should feel guilty about this. Probably?

Jake hands JT the body wash when they’re standing under the spray. It’s a pretty green bottle, expensive looking with some fancy scent name on the front. “What’s it like to get traded?” he asks.

“Uh. It sucks.” JT isn’t sure how much body wash to use. He squirts a pool into the cradle of his palm; it’s green. “I did it twice and hopefully never again.”

“Everyone says I’m gonna get traded. I’m not good enough.” Jake pushes a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t wanna go.”

“You’re not gonna get traded, Tuna.”

Jake pulls a face. “I can’t… I can’t imagine being traded as soon as things are looking up. I really think I’m putting it together. I have a lot to offer.”

JT doesn’t say that that’s exactly how he felt in Tampa. He felt like he was making himself a career, a name in the league. He thought he had a lot to offer, to the team and to Ryan. Turns out neither of them wanted him.

“It’ll work out, Tunes. Just keep skating through it, right?”

“Right.”

When JT gets home, he pulls into the parking garage and rests his head on his steering wheel for a few moments, slowing his breaths.

* * *

JT runs into Brock by the coast on an off day. He’s throwing a ball for a dog with one brown and one blue eye. JT is just walking, feeling the fresh air on his ears. The weather is pleasant and mild despite the time of year.

“Hey,” he calls over. Brock waves and trots to him, the dog obediently following at his side.

“Hey Millsy! What’s up?”

“Just out for a walk.” The dog approaches JT and happily sniffs him. JT scratches under its chin. “Whose dog is this?”

“Mine. That’s Coolie.”

“Wh—you’re single, aren’t you?” JT asks. Oh, well, he only knows Brock’s single because he knows Brock dumped Elias, so he probably _shouldn’t_ know, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Brock furrows his eyebrows and smiles, bemused. “Yeah? So?”

“Who takes care of him while you’re gone?” Pretty much only married guys have dogs, or guys in long-term relationships. A dog is like a baby. You can’t just… leave it. Hockey players are leaving all the time; it’s a pretty big part of the job description.

“Don’t be stupid, Millsy, I have a dog-sitter.” Brock laughs at him. JT’s mouth hangs open stupidly. He supposes it’s as easy as that. Coolie lies down on the grass and Brock kneels to pet him.

It’s not the same as a baby. JT still remembers the promise he and Ryan made: two dogs, one baby. _Once we retire_, Ryan would murmur against JT’s mouth, kissing him over and over, _I wanna make a family with you_.

Brock looks at Coolie and isn’t paying much attention to JT when he says, as if thinking aloud, “I mean, it _was_ a little easier when Petey and I—um.” He cuts himself off and flicks his eyes over to JT.

“Oh,” JT says. “It’s okay. He told me a little bit about, uh…” he squirms, not sure what to say.

“About us?”

JT nods.

Coolie rolls onto his back. “I’m in love with him. Elias,” Brock says quietly, rubbing Coolie’s stomach. “We were sort of a thing last year.”

“What happened?” JT asks.

“I broke up with him.” JT raises his eyebrows at the ease in which Brock says it. “Over the summer. With everything that was going on, it was just… too fast. We’re so young, and it was a lot. Intense.” Brock kind of chuckles, as if remembering. “I sorta freaked out this summer and told him I couldn’t be with him anymore. I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

“Why not… get back together with him?” JT asks.

“I _can’t_ right now.” Brock shakes his head. “Things still aren’t totally okay with my family. It would be too much. When we’re together, it’s like he’s _everything_.”

JT doesn’t say anything. It stings. When Ryan broke up with him, he said it would be too hard to have him without having _all _of him.

_I want all of you_ rings in his mind. _It hurts too much to not have everything_.

“It’s not really fair.” Brock looks at Coolie. He pets the short hair on his chest, gently holds one of his paws. Coolie’s tongue hangs out of his mouth. “Nothing that has ever happened to me has ever been fair.”

JT doesn’t know half of what Brock has been through. He’s not sure if he believes in _anything_ being fair anymore. Last season he was on a hockey team that won 62 games in the regular season and zero in the playoffs.

“If it were different, we could be together.” Brock is so earnest, so hopeful. JT likes it; it makes him feel young again.

Then JT feels his stomach flip thinking of poor Jake and his hopeless mooning and jealousy. He doesn’t know what the right answer is, but JT never considered himself much of a problem-solver.

“I think things work themselves out eventually,” is all he can say. He believes that, even if it’s only out of hope. Maybe he’s still a little young, somewhere deep inside him.

* * *

JT isn’t sure how it happens, but it comes up again, this time with Elias. They’re in bed together, in some city on some night during some road trip. He tries to skirt the topic but Elias doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, sitting up and yawning as he explains what happened last year.

“We were roommates on the road. He was still on his ELC.” Elias stretches his legs out, reaching down and touching his shins. “He was into me. I was into him. He makes me feel like…” Elias flops over onto his side. “Like I’m everything. The whole world. I don’t know how to say it in English.”

“That wasn’t too fast?” It took _years_ and a life-changing cross-country move for JT and Ryan to get together.

“Why wait?” Elias stares at JT with a piercing gaze. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. He broke up with me, so.” He shrugs.

JT thinks about what Brock told him. “Why?”

Elias’ face crumples. “I tried to be there for him. It hasn’t been easy for his family. I didn’t do a good enough job. I wasn’t good enough.”

“Whoa, hey, I don’t think Brock th—”

“I don’t know what he told you, but _I_ know. I know.” Elias never drops JT’s gaze. It’s the same cold and calculating blue it’s always been. It’s guarded, out of necessity rather than choice. There’s still an innocence there, somewhere underneath. “I didn’t do enough. And then I let him go. I think I was afraid of, of, making things harder for him. He already has enough going wrong.”

“I got dumped, too, before I left.”

“Yeah?”

“He didn’t want to do long distance.” JT frowns. He remembers the way Ryan cried when he packed, the long hours he shut himself upstairs in their bedroom. “I didn’t fight for him.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Elias is still sitting up, but he lets himself down, lying on his side so he and JT are face to face. He looks at JT’s chin, which he hasn’t bothered to shave in a few days, and says, “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Me too. I’m glad I met you.”

* * *

JT likes kissing Elias, even though they don’t do it that often. It’s intimate, perhaps even weirdly so, but he likes it anyway. Elias’ mouth is soft. JT gets the sense that he doesn’t like to kiss, but tonight he initiates it; he presses JT against the wall and kisses him for a long time. The kiss is aggressive, needy even. Elias pulls JT in more and more, making little noises against his mouth and touching his neck.

He suddenly pulls away. His pink kiss-swollen lips pinch down at the corners. He doesn’t say anything a moment, face contorting with the frown as if he’s trying to keep everything underneath the surface. Then, hushed: “Why doesn’t he love me anymore?”

JT can’t speak. He sees himself in Elias’ eyes, sad and confused and alone.

“It’s not… it’s not fair.” Elias shakes his head. “We’re perfect for each other. I thought we were gonna… I dunno. I thought it was gonna be forever. Him and me, and Coolie.”

JT can’t help but think of his and Ryan’s broken promises. Two dogs, one baby. The _I love you_s, the _I’ll never leave you_s. The moment Ryan told him he couldn’t do it anymore, how he couldn’t stand to see JT go. The house was so quiet while JT packed, and his sight was blurred with tears as he drove to the airport.

“I dunno, Petey.” JT puts his hand on Elias’ shoulder. “But maybe it’s not too late for you. You can still do something about it. You have a chance.” _A chance I don’t have_, JT doesn’t say.

* * *

“Did you know Petey and Boes were dating last year?” JT asks Quinn. Quinn freezes, jaw hanging open around the straw to his daiquiri.

“Uh.” 

“Should I take that as a yes?” JT cocks an eyebrow.

“I mean.” Quinn pushes his drink back and turns the corners of his lips down. He looks at the pink slush of his drink, pushing it around with the straw. “Which one of them did you talk to about it? Because that’ll change what I say.”

“Both of them, I guess. I was just wondering if you knew.”

Quinn raises his eyebrows. “I _lived_ with Petey last spring.” JT doesn’t connect what that has to do with anything and Quinn can see it on his face; he sighs and gestures vaguely with one hand. “Some things… you hear… and then you know why Brock is around so often… get it?”

“Ah.”

“So yeah. I knew. Petey and I, we texted about it a little this summer. He was really cool about it.” Quinn shrugs. He flicks his eyes over to JT, to his mouth and chin. He looks at the hollow of JT’s throat, the space where it disappears under his shirt. “Petey’s really cool. He’s, like, mature about everything. Nothing bothers him. I’m glad I know him.”

Quinn smiles absently at the bar as he speaks. His lips are stained pink from his daiquiri. His feet dangle down from the stool, not quite reaching the floor. JT isn’t sure if it’s just because Quinn is so small or if it’s the way he looks up to Elias, but he seems so young tonight. Quinn rarely shows his age, always so composed in every situation, walking around like he doesn’t have a pulse.

“I’m glad I know all you guys,” JT says with a grin, raising his beer to Quinn. “Pretty cool group of guys.”

Quinn nods happily in agreement, sucking at his own drink through a smile.

* * *

JT needs a proper bedside table. So far since he’s moved in he’s been accumulating a small pile of junk beside his bed, and it’s starting to get out of hand. He almost tripped and cracked his skull open over the weekend and he thinks Travis wouldn’t be a fan of that.

He heads someplace Bo texted him about and wanders around aimlessly, touching end tables as if considering them while internally having no fucking clue. The different styles and wood types and finishes seem to mock him, all perfectly uniform in their differences, each becoming indistinguishable.

He must be making a particularly screwed-up face at some mahogany because a store associate approaches him and says, “Hi, can I help you with anything today, sir?”

She’s pretty and tall, long dark hair down her back. Her name tag says _Jenna_ in feminine loopy handwriting.

“I’m. Um. Looking for a bedside table?” JT cringes. He’s never shopped for furniture before. It was so easy, moving to Tampa, Ryan softly telling him, “You can move in with me, Millsy,” and then eventually not even needing his own furniture when Ryan’s bed became Ryan and JT’s bed and even Ryan’s fucking bedside table became Ryan and JT’s bedside table. “I’m new in the city,” he adds self-deprecatingly, smiling at the floor and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Alright, sure thing.” Jenna walks him around the store pointing things out, asking JT about his other furniture and his price range.

“And would you be buying just the one, or a set?” she asks at one point. “We sell tables in pairs, if you’re, ah, say, if your partner also needs one.”

JT freezes. “Oh, no,” he says, forcing a laugh. “They got the bedside table in the breakup, so. Here I am.”

Jenna also laughs nervously, looking embarrassed, before leading JT to a different section, her dark hair swinging behind her.

JT ends up not buying anything; he just shoves the pile of crap a few inches backward so it’s out of the way.

* * *

As the game in Tampa inches closer, JT doesn’t think about it. It’s easy not to, because the team is winning and they don’t stop winning and JT has gotten used to the taste of winning. All he did last year was win, 62 lined up in a neat row. He tries not to think about what happened next, how he lost it all.

He’s so sure they’ll win, and he’s so sure he’ll be totally fine. It was only a year and change in Tampa, so it shouldn’t be an issue. He’ll look at the ice instead of Ryan; he’s even practiced.

He practiced, but nothing on Earth could prepare him for what it feels like to skate onto the ice and see Ryan on the other side, looking picture perfect in blue. JT’s spent an entire career in blue beside Ryan but now he’s realizing how different blues can be. Ryan was his captain in one lifetime and his partner in another, and now he’s neither. Now they’re competitors who can’t meet each other’s gaze.

His ankles shake in his skates after warm-up. Bo, sitting next to him, gives him a look. “Jesus, Millsy,” he says with a laugh. “Quaking in your boots over there! You really that scared of your old team?”

“A little psyched out,” he replies, rolling his ankles to settle them. “Those guys all already know I can’t hit the fuckin’ net.”

Bo pats his leg with a gloved hand. “I think the whole league knows that, stone hands. Just pass to Petey and let’s make this eight wins in a row, okay?”

JT nods, and he looks at the ice when they skate back out. The team loses 9-2 in brutal fashion, and JT looks at the ice when they skate off as the game finally and mercifully ends. He doesn’t look up to see if Ryan is looking back at him.

* * *

Ryan’s waiting for him in the hallway when he emerges; he catches his arm. “JT,” he says, voice low.

“I shouldn’t—” JT replies, unable to meet Ryan’s gaze.

“Just come home with me, JT,” Ryan pleads. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be.”

JT wants it all, he wants _everything_. Ryan didn’t want JT anymore when he couldn’t have all of him, but JT is willing to compromise. He’s _more_ than willing to sink into Ryan’s kiss when they get home, wrap his arms around him and walk him into the bedroom. It’s still laid out the same way and it feels the same way it used to. JT kisses Ryan so he doesn’t have to think; kissing Ryan comes as easily as breathing.

“C’mon, JT,” Ryan mumbles against JT’s lips, rubbing insistently on his thigh. “Want you. You should fuck me.” His fingers are slipping under JT’s waistband, brushing the sensitive skin on his hips.

A moan bubbles from JT’s throat and he’s nodding on instinct alone, taking control and walking Ryan back as they kiss, sucking on his tongue and reaching a hand down to grab his ass, pressing Ryan close against him, holding him against his body.

The backs of Ryan’s knees hit the bed in the same amount of steps JT is used to, the muscle memory of Ryan’s bedroom kicking in. When they moved to Tampa JT’s bedroom quickly became a guest bedroom as they accidentally went from friends to lovers to partners. JT knows exactly how many steps it takes for Ryan to hit the bed, exactly where his body will bend against the resistance, the exact distance Ryan will fall before grabbing the front of JT’s shirt and pulling him along.

But a wire or two gets crossed and for a second JT feels confused, instinct expecting slender narrow hands on his waist instead of Ryan’s broad hands on his chest, and JT’s brain stutters to a stop. 

“W-wait,” he says, putting his hands on Ryan’s where he’s undoing his dress shirt. Elias always pops the button of JT’s slacks first and lets JT deal with his shirt himself. “I don’t have a condom.”

Ryan doesn’t understand; he presses a kiss on JT’s neck and brushes his fingers out, stroking the wiry hair on his chest. “What?” he says. “Why does that matter?”

“I…” JT averts his gaze from Ryan’s face, looking at the familiar divots on the floor. “You can’t honestly expect me to not be hooking up with anyone.”

“Oh.”

“You…” JT says, almost angry, bothered to see how upset Ryan looks. “You can’t be mad at me. _You_ broke up with _me_. _You_ don’t get to stop me from wanting to, fucking, like, have sex when _you_ decided we weren’t a _we_ anymore.”

_You_, _you_, the word on JT’s lips is always _you_. _You and me_ was always Ryan and JT, until it wasn’t.

“Just for tonight, then,” Ryan says, shaking his hand and thumbing the buttons of JT’s shirt again. “Be a _we_ for one more night. Be with me, and you can go back to fucking whoever you wanna fuck.”

Ryan finds a condom and JT takes him apart, his hands remembering Ryan’s body like the hands never quite forget an instrument. He fucks Ryan the way he’s thought about since the summer, the way he told himself he would if he could just get one more night. It’s been a long time since JT fucked Ryan through a condom and it takes him a minute to find the trash in the master bath when they’re done. Ryan brushes JT’s bangs off his forehead the same way he used to when he eventually lies back down.

“Can I ask?” Ryan says. “Who you’re sleeping with?”

JT goes slightly pink in the ears. “The Pettersson kid,” he admits. _Kid_. Elias isn’t really a kid, but, still, to Ryan he is. Even JT has always been _kid_ to Ryan.

Ryan nods the same way he does when he’s absorbing a new play. “Shit,” he says eventually.

“It’s complicated.”

“I bet.”

JT lies flat on his back next to Ryan and does his best to pretend that everything’s the same as it used to be. Maybe he’ll fall asleep beside him and when Ryan shakes him awake it’ll be because they’re gonna be late for morning skate and not because JT’s gonna be late for Vancouver’s charter. Maybe they’ll walk outside and it’ll be bitter New York City cold and dirty sidewalks instead of Tampa’s eternal summer.

JT’s still young but he’s not a kid anymore, not like he was in New York City. Part of him misses those days but part of him feels stronger now than he ever has, feels more confident and assured than he ever did living in another city.

The dissonance is enough to make his head spin. He turns on his side and the strong but kind profile of Ryan’s face calms him instantly. Ryan’s been the one constant in a changing life. Or, he was.

“Do you have a pack of cigs?” he asks. “For old time’s sake.”

Ryan laughs, hands on his belly. “No fucking way, Millsy. I don’t smoke anymore.”

“Me neither.” JT shrugs. He never really smoked. He only ever did in New York City so he could go on the balcony of Ryan’s apartment alone with him, cough into the wind and share secrets for a few minutes before going back to the rest of the world. Ryan quit, eventually, but by then JT didn’t have to fake his way into privacy with him.

“It’s not good for you, anyway.”

“Sure.” Ryan always makes JT feel like a kid again.

* * *

JT wakes up in Ryan’s bed but it’s nothing like it used to be. Everything is different now.

The coffee machine is the same, and so is the brand of coffee. Ryan’s kitchen is still absurdly cold in the morning and he still refuses to turn up the heat. JT still wakes up first to the sunlight streaming in and painting the floor white.

But Ryan doesn’t drop a lazy kiss on top of JT’s head when he gets up and makes his way to the kitchen table. He sits across from JT and doesn’t tease him by putting his cold feet on JT’s calves.

When JT tears himself away from the peacefulness of the morning coffee and makes his way to his sneakers in the entryway, Ryan follows him and takes the hem of JT’s tee in his fingers.

“Wait,” he says. JT turns toward him; he can wait and he can stay. He’s been waiting months to hear Ryan say it. Ryan reaches up to cup JT’s face. “I…” he says. “Do you like Vancouver?” His eyes are soft. His hand is on JT’s cheek. “I hope… I hope you can find home there.”

JT leans into his touch. “I love Vancouver,” he says. “It’s beautiful. I think you’d really like the city. But it’s not _home_, Ryan. You know it’s not home to me. What about you, anyway? Is New York home? Tampa?”

Ryan does not take his eyes away from JT’s. He holds his gaze. “I don’t know.” One hand still on JT’s face, he reaches out to take JT’s hand in his own. “I thought New York was home for a long time. And it still is. But Tampa’s home, too.”

“I tried to make New York home, but it never really felt right. Tampa started to feel like home, but it wasn’t because of Tampa. You know that.” JT rubs his thumb along Ryan’s knuckles. “It was you.”

Ryan surges forward and kisses JT. He’s going to be so, _so_ late for the bus, but JT kisses Ryan back, kisses him until he forgets that it could be the last time.

“I never stopped loving you,” Ryan admits. “I wanted to, though. I wanted to feel nothing, like it would make it hurt less.”

“I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to.” JT kisses Ryan again. The last time couldn’t be the last time. The memory of Ryan’s mouth on his is already slipping away, the heat already leaving him. JT needs another reminder.

“I’m sorry for all the broken promises,” Ryan says.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you. For our promises.” JT kisses Ryan again, and again.

JT isn’t going to be late, he _is_ late, but he doesn’t care.

“Can we start again? Can we make new promises?”

JT hesitates, but only a moment. Ryan wanted everything, but maybe they can figure out how to make enough out of not much. “I’ll promise you anything.” It’s pretty easy to start again when you never stopped in the first place.

“Promise to show me your place, when we’re in Vancouver?”

* * *

When they get back to Vancouver, their win streak crashing down around them in dramatic fashion, Chris invites everyone over for dinner. JT shows up late and gratefully accepts a glass of wine. His phone sits heavy in his pocket with unread texts from Ryan, promises of a morning phone call; Ryan says he’ll teach JT how to use FaceTime, too.

Two glasses of wine later, on the hunt for the bathroom, JT walks straight into the laundry room which wouldn’t’ve been noteworthy if Elias and Brock hadn’t been kissing inside.

JT says, “Uh,” and closes the door.

He turns around and finds the bathroom at the other end of the hallway, promptly opening the door to find Quinn inside leaning against the wall.

JT says, “Uh,” but he doesn’t close the door. Quinn just stares at him, looking JT straight in the eye.

“Hi Millsy.”

“Hi…?”

“Is your ex on the Bolts?” he asks.

“Uh?” JT looks behind him in case this is actually an episode of Punk’d. Is that still a thing?

“You were really late to the bus.” Quinn’s voice is flat, like always. He moves twice in JT’s line of sight, both the real him and the mirror him on the opposite wall. When JT says nothing, Quinn shrugs. “Well, whatever. Petey and Boes are together again. Actually, maybe not, but they’re _something_.”

Quinn looks at JT like he’s expecting something, approval or disapproval of the turn of events. JT just thinks about Ryan. He never liked the _something_ part of a relationship. He didn’t like the part when they were sleeping together during the day but sleeping in their own beds at night. He liked the parts that came after, the part when they became _partners_.

He, of course, did not like the part when they were apart.

Quinn stands to his full height and then leans forward, over the bathroom counter to mess with his hair. “Pretend I didn’t ask about your ex. Hypothetically, would you ever date a teammate?”

JT realizes he never told Quinn about having an ex in the first place, but he somehow isn’t surprised that he knows anyway. “You always end up getting your heart broken,” is all he says.

Quinn frowns.

* * *

Jake’s the first person to the rink and JT is second. 

When JT shows up, Jake sets him down a cup of coffee, black, one cream on the side, and sits in silence a moment. “You got dumped before you came here, right? How’d you get over it? Someone not loving you?” he asks eventually. Jake’s hands are curled around his own cup of coffee.

JT frowns. There are five texts from Ryan in his pocket right now and the most recent one, the notification JT hasn’t swiped away yet, reads _i love you_. “Sorry, Tuna. I don’t think I ever did.”

“It has to go away someday, right? The feeling of not being wanted?”

JT thinks about New York. He doesn’t think about it very often, anymore. He hasn’t smoked a cigarette in a long time. “Yeah. I think it does, eventually.”

“I want _someone_ to want me.” Jake pauses. He’s staring at his hands in his lap, wringing his hands. “I don’t want to get traded, Millsy.”

“You just have to prove them wrong. Play your fucking heart out. Be better than you’ve ever been. If they don’t want you, show them why they should. Or should’ve, I guess.”

“Skate through it?” Jake says with a wry smile.

JT grins and slaps Jake’s back. “Exactly.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket: a phone call. He pulls out his phone and Ryan’s name flashes on the screen. “Oh, shit, okay Tunes, I gotta take this, alright?”

“Alright, Millsy.”

JT dashes out into the hallway to pick up his phone, leaving Jake alone in the lounge.

**Author's Note:**

> jake virtanen is entitled to financial compensation after this,
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading!!
> 
> much love (now more than ever) <3


End file.
